couldn’t help wincing as he thought about how young Duncan had been. I resented a fourteen-year-old for not wanting to spend time with his shrimpy eight-year-old brother. Of course he hadn’t wanted to. He’d been kind enough, but six years was a big age spread then. Too big for them to have been the kind of friends Conall had yearned to be.
Had he been angry because when Duncan turned into a father figure, it erased all possibility for them ever to be simply friends and brothers? Thinking about their couple of meetings these past weeks, Conall had a minor revelation.
Not all possibility had been erased. It wasn’t too late. Duncan was still willing, God knows why considering what a jackass Conall had been.
Because we are brothers.
Maybe because Duncan had always understood more than Conall had realized.
Conall had another uncomfortable realization. Despite what he’d said to Lia, he wasn’t dreading tomorrow. He was actually looking forward to spending time with his brothers and their families.
His family.
And one reason he felt that way was because he felt secure here, as though they were coming onto his territory.
Apprehension stabbed between his ribs, stiletto sharp. This wasn’t his home. Lia wasn’t his woman, Walker and Brendan weren’t his kids. It scared the crap out of him to realize that he felt like they were.
He stared at the dark house, willing a light to come on, the garage door to open, the sound of an engine to cut through the night, and thought, Goddamn you, make a move. Make a mistake.
He needed this operation to be done. To get back to his life before he started wondering whether that was what he wanted at all.
* * *
NIALL PITCHED THE BALL over the plate. Brendan swung hard, and connected. Crack. The ball soared and the batter tore for first base.
“Home run! Home run!” Walker chanted. Conall indulged in a few catcalls as the ball passed over Jane’s glove and rolled beneath the fence into the pasture, ending up with a splat in a cow patty.
As Brendan triumphantly rounded the makeshift bases, Jane stopped at the fence and said, “Ew. Someone else come and get it.”
Even Duncan laughed at her. “Can’t be any worse than Fiona’s diaper.”
Conall and Brendan exchanged high fives as the boy smacked both feet on home plate for emphasis. The pitcher called, “Replacement ball.”
Jane returned carrying the now greenish-brown-tinged baseball between two fingers. “What kind of baseball field is this?” she asked.
Duncan kissed her on the cheek and declined to take the ball. It was Lia, still giggling, who led her to the outdoor faucet where they rinsed and re-rinsed the ball, then dropped it and went into the house to scrub hands.
“Seventh-inning stretch,” Niall declared. “We’ve lost our outfielder. I could use a beer anyway.”
“You just want to quit because you’re losing,” Conall said amiably. His team—Walker, Brendan, Lia and himself—was trouncing Niall’s, which consisted of Desmond, Niall, Jane and Anna alternating with Duncan. Rowan had been declared ineligible to play ball because no one wanted to be responsible for sending a line drive into her pregnant belly. Niall was operating with a disability; he’d had to tackle a suspect that week and his left side was a mass of bruises and knotted muscles. His pitching wasn’t too bad, but his batting sucked. Des was decent for his age, Jane had turned out to be athletic, and Anna had managed to make it to first base on a bunt, but Conall and the boys had been doing some serious practicing.
“You’ve got a weenie for a wife,” Conall told Duncan as he delved into the cooler for a beer.
He’d never seen his big brother more relaxed. Duncan was currently lounging on one of the Adirondack chairs Lia had brought out onto the lawn. “Weak stomach,” he said easily. “You should have seen her the first few months she was pregnant. She could hardly keep anything down. We ate the blandest diet you’ve ever seen for a while there.”
“Killed his sex life, too,” their brother said, joining them. Trailed by Rowan, the kids had all run over to pet the pony through the fence. The men were left momentarily alone.
Duncan shot him a look. “Didn’t sound like yours was any too hot for a few months there, either.”
Amused, Conall wondered what their wives would think of this discussion. He could imagine what Lia would say if he…
Goddamn it. There he went again, thinking of her as his.
Duncan continued, “But when that crazy son of